Page 77 of The Love Haters

But my hand moved of its own will, anyway, and my fingers stroked the screen, and my eyes followed the text down.

And then, there they were.

Hideous.

Hopeless.

Nightmare.

This just ruined the song for me.

I can never unsee this.

She should kill herself.

I knew that “She should kill herself” was kind of the “Have a nice day” of the internet… but it was still beyond jarring to see it.

At last—too late—I squeezed my eyes closed and summoned the will to click the phone off. I felt an ache in my core like I’d been stomach-punched. Then I raised my arm, drew it back, and pelted the phone with all my might across the yard, watching it bounce a couple of times in the grass before landing out of sight.

When I turned, Hutch was heading my way to check on me.

He saw my face, and then he looked from me to the patch of grass where my phone was and back again.

“Don’t go after it,” I said, feeling like my voice was far away. “Don’t even touch it.” Then, to make sure he really understood: “If you go anywhere near that phone, I swear to God, I will light myself on fire.”

Hutch gave an alarmed nod that said,Message received.

And then I just started walking.

There was nothing to do in this moment. I wasn’t going to show him the article. I wasn’t going to talk about it. I sure as hell wasn’t going to justresume my pleasant evening.

No plan, no thoughts—just instinct.

Time to move.

“Hutch, where’s she going?” Rue called as I went by. “Dinner’s ready.”

Dinner, I thought.How ridiculous.

I left the cottages behind—no purse, no phone, not even any shoes—and just strode out into the city streets. I wasn’t headed anywhere. Ididn’t have a plan. I was just a personon fire with humiliation—doomed to try to outrun the flames.

I have no idea what route I took, or what streets I walked, or how much time went by.

Eventually, I wound up crossing the cobblestone streets of Old Town and slowing down, finally, at Mallory Square, where Rue had told me folks gathered every night to celebrate the sunset.

It was sunset now, and the park was full. The mood there in no way matched my scorched-earth vibe. The wind careened by. Party boats churned past. People perched on the empty cruise ship docks, leaning on each other’s shoulders as they watched the water and the sky. Others milled around, watching a guy playing acoustic guitar, and a Hula-Hooper doing some mighty impressive tricks, and a guy busking on a unicycle and playing an accordion. Even the food vendors were adorable: Conch Fritter Fred, Pineapple Rita, a lady selling two-bite key lime pies.

Why did everybody elsebeing okayjust make me feel worse?

I found a metal railing by the water and leaned against it, gripping the cool, smooth bar with my palms.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt panicked. Trapped. Caged inside my body. And all I wanted, all I could even think about wanting, was out.

But there was no way out.

That’s the thing about having a body. You only get one, and you’re trapped in it from beginning to end.

What would Beanie say right now? I didn’t have to think too hard on that one.

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